


Black Lily

by snailjamsge



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek Myths, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Persephone Goes Willingly With Hades (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), hestadil, tagatha, yara/kiko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailjamsge/pseuds/snailjamsge
Summary: Tedros, the god of spring growth, has lived in the valley with his nymphs for his entire life. But what happens when he becomes drawn to the darkness of the forest? A retelling of the Persephone and Hades myth, featuring Tedros as Persephone and Agatha as Hades.Written between July 12th, 2020 and July 18th, 2020
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Anadil/Hester (The School for Good and Evil), kiko/yara
Comments: 49
Kudos: 86





	1. shadows and sweetgrass

Every day Tedros would play with the nymphs, and every night he would fall asleep beside them, facing the stars. He had never imagined anything different; he didn't need to. Everytime the stars lost their sheen, and he found himself looking towards the stubbly blades of grass growing beneath his bare feet, his nymphs would draw his head back to the stars.

Chaddick would often hold foraging competitions between himself, Tedros, and the other nymphs. Kiko and Yara, the nymphs sweeter than even the blackberries in the glade, would always pair up, hand in hand, and look for mushrooms together. It was cute, Tedros supposed, but he always seemed to win. One time he “only” found one mushroom, but none of the other nymphs could find anything that day. The nymphs knew he could just grow his own — Tedros being a god himself — but they always let him win. Tedros never said anything about it because he didn’t want to hurt their feelings. He did live an idyllic life, and it would be ungrateful of him to ask for anything more. But maybe he wanted more. Maybe he just needed a push. Or, rather, a  _ pull _ .

\-------------------------------------

Mortals always strummed melancholy tunes once spring turned to fall. The leaves died and decayed, and the wind grew shrill with cold. But what did they sing about before autumn existed? What then?

\-------------------------------------

Tedros dragged his hand along the rough tree as he circled around, looking for mushrooms. Another of Chaddick’s games that he couldn’t say no to. His pale chiton reached below his feet and therefore trailed behind him, glided against the ground. Tedros enjoyed the warm summer’s grass beneath his feet until suddenly he didn’t. In fact, the ground felt quite frostbitten. 

The young god glanced down to see the end of a dark spot against him.  _ The tree’s shadow _ , he thought,  _ of course _ . He did a double take. The shadow definitely did not look like a tree. Pinning his eyes to the shadow, Tedros followed its trail, adamant to know what lay at the end of it.  _ Perhaps a large mushroom _ , he thought aimlessly. His feet grew colder and colder with each passing step, and the nymphs felt a million miles away. And then the shadow ended. Tedros bumped immediately into a towering, gangly tree.  _ But if that’s a tree _ , Tedros thought,  _ then why is it staring at him? _

“EEP!” Tedros screeched, throwing himself as far away from the being as possible. The being, who was looking a lot more like a woman now, stared back equally frightened. The luscious grass quickly turned into lifeless dirt, and Tedros stood above cold ground once more.

“If you’re planning on attacking me, you probably should have brought a sword,” the woman mused. Tedros looked at her in shock. “Though,” she continued slowly, “I don’t imagine you could even wield a sword.” The woman awaited his response, but Tedros refused to say anything. He stared at the blackened ground, the cold stare of the woman, and her implications of violence. His heart began to pound in his chest, pounding to the beat of a warship’s drum, and his eyes darted from the woman’s piercing brown eyes to her long shadow to her open sketchbook, filled with harsh charcoal sketches of otherwise innocent flowers. Without another word, he took off back towards the nymphs. The woman bowed her head in remorse and went back to her sketchbook.

Tedros ran frantically through the forest, leaves that once passed peacefully overhead now thwacking him as he pushed forwards. The tree’s bark-laden knots looked menacingly at him, as if they were purposely spreading their branches to rake against his face and scratch at his ankles. He ran until he felt like a mortal gasping for one last breath before being pulled under. Needless to say, the nymphs stared in shock as a forest debris and dirt covered Tedros emerged from the forest.

“Eat one of those mushrooms from your basket?” Chaddick asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” Tedros responded uneasily.

“You’ll be fine!” Dot piped up cheerfully. “I’ve definitely eaten a wrong one before, and accidentally stumbled into a dancing group of mortals led by Ravan.” The nymphs turned their attention to Dot’s scandal and swept aside Tedros’ incident in favor of Dot’s. Tedros was just thankful that nobody asked what really happened. Not that he wasn’t willing to share, since everything was communal here, but because he wouldn’t know how to describe what he saw.

\-------------------------------------

Mushrooms grow best in the dark, and that’s what makes them so difficult to find. It takes real strength to grasp through the darkness and return with something of beauty. For that reason, mushrooms are an expensive luxury in the mortal realm. 

\-------------------------------------

Tedros laid in the sweet grass, face turned up towards the night sky, one arm resting against Chaddick and the other against Beatrix. He shifted slightly to Beatrix, who hadn’t quite closed her eyes yet.

“Beatrix?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever heard of a dark nymph? Or some type of cursed shadow? Or a tree that —”

“Tedros,” Beatrix said quietly in stark comparison to Tedros, whose breathing was becoming more rapid with each intake of air. “I don’t know what you saw, and I don’t even know if you saw anything. What I do know is that you shouldn’t worry.” She looked at the other nymphs, sleeping peacefully. “There is nothing to worry about,” she corrected herself. “And theoretically, if there ever was a need, we will protect you.” The nymph inhaled slowly. “Sleep peacefully.”

“And to you,” Tedros responded. Anadil’s chariot slowly pulled the moon across the sky, willing Tedros to fall asleep under her moonbeams and forget the cruelness of day. But as the night sky slowly turned to darkness, he knew that he would never forget what he saw. It was the most exciting encounter he had ever experienced, and as frightening as it was, he almost wished that he hadn’t run away. 

\-------------------------------------

Moonbeams fall like spotlights into the crystalline streams and creeks in the nighttime. It is said that Anadil sends them there with extra care so that Hester, goddess of the hunt, may see them and be reminded of her love.

\-------------------------------------

“Today is the perfect day for a swim in the stream,” Kiko said cheerfully. The other nymphs rose gracefully from their slumber and greeted the morning with smiling faces, as if saying hello to the new day itself. Tedros groggily wiped his eyes. He had always tried to be as nimble and elegant as the nymphs, yet times like these reminded him that he could never be one of them. He was Tedros, god of spring growth, and that would never change. He pushed himself off the sweet grass.

“Last one to the stream will be pushed into the River Styx!” Yara shrieked — with Kiko, Dot, and the other nymphs hot on her trail. They rushed through the meadow, except for Chaddick, who made sure to stay behind Tedros. When Tedros entered the stream swiftly, Chaddick made a big show of being last.

“Oh no! Looks like I’m going into the Styx today! No nice cool waters for me.” 

“I’ve heard,” said Beatrix,” that the River Styx boils your skin off!” The nymphs all wrinkled their noses in disgust and splashed Beatrix with water in response.

Tedros let the soft current of the stream drown out their shrieks as he ducked under the surface. His muscles slowly began to unclench, and he began to feel at ease with the world once more. Slowly brushing up against the warm, smooth pebbles on the banks of the stream, he saw the nymphs playing, their skin glistening like dew. He saw the hundred year old trees brush up one another towards the tops of their canopies. He saw a dark shadow. 

Tedros squinted again.  _ It couldn’t be _ , he thought. And yet, it was. The woman sat at the base of a tree, too far for the nymphs to see, but Tedros had strayed far enough from his family that he could see her. A few paces and he’d be there. He could do it. He could leave the stream and ask after her. He —

The woman closed her sketchbook and moved further into the forest without so much as a glance at him. This is what Tedros should want. Guinevere warned him of the dangers of the forest, to not look closer than the first trees, to ignore anything other than perfect. But Tedros wanted to look. He could grow these trees himself without so much as a second thought. So why did it matter that some nature was shrouded in darkness — it’s all from the same source. Tedros lingered in the stream for so long that his fingers had become as wrinkled as dried prunes, and his back had intentations from the pebbles. The water didn’t seem as inviting anymore. Tedros left the waters and followed the nymphs off to a picnic lunch, but his thoughts never left the woman leaning against that tree.

  
  



	2. to grow a black lily

\-------------------------------------

Anadil rode her chariot across the sky, painting it with the light of the moon and twinkling of the stars, but eventually, the day began anew. 

\-------------------------------------

Yara placed a circlet made of blue plumbago flowers on Tedros’ head. She laughed, her voice tinkling in the open glade. 

“Imagine if you were a mortal king,” Yara said. “You would be sought after by all the most beautiful maidens and handsome bachelors. Wouldn’t you just love a good romance?” Tedros thought about that for a second. It didn’t sound like such a bad thing: romance. He sobered at the fact that there was nobody to date. Kiko and Yara were paired off, Chaddick preferred to fly solo, and Dot and Beatrix felt like siblings to him. All of the nymphs did — he had grown up with them. His mother would definitely forbid dating outside his nymph group, and it’s not as though he knew anyone outside them. Yara tilted her head, waiting for his response. Tedros coughed awkwardly.

“It would be nice to be a mortal king with the attention of the world,” he said.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Yara smiled, leaving Tedros to join Beatrix and Kiko towards the center of the glade. Tedros had ruined the magical moment, and nobody knew better than himself that the nymphs enjoyed only the lighthearted qualities of the world. Sometimes he wished that he could hang out with some more exciting friends but stopped himself. The nymphs were great friends. They played with him, gifted him presents on odd days, and showed him parts of the valley that even he wasn’t aware of. He was just an ungrateful little god with nowhere else to be in the world. 

Tedros stood up and walked away from the glade into the covered forest. He wanted to find some naturally grown flowers to make into a flower crown for Yara. He could always grow his own, but he found that the forest always gave him a variety of flowers he wouldn’t have even thought of growing himself. He picked a nice bundle of flowers, with their lilacs and pinks and whites, and turned to find himself face to face with the woman once more. Knuckles turning white from clenching the flowers, Tedros stared eye-to-eye with the woman instead of fleeing. His heart, still pounding nonetheless, would not get the best of him this time. This was his forest. He was responsible for protecting it, with or without the nymphs.

“Who are you?” Tedros asked more angrily than intended. The woman laughed in a gravelly voice.

“I must have mistaken you for a god then. Are you another nymph? I thought all gods knew of me. I’m Agatha, goddess of the Underworld.” Tedros’ cheeks burned red with embarrassment. He had been seeing the goddess of the  _ Underworld _ this whole time? No wonder the ground had felt cold. 

“I am a god,” Tedros said forcefully. “God of spring growth.” 

Agatha’s smile dimmed. “This is a day of learning then, for I did not realize someone who seeks out those in the shade would be responsible for spring growth.” 

Tedros glowered. “Plants can grow just fine in the shade. In fact, some actually prefer it. I shouldn’t even be speaking with you right now.” Tedros wanted to turn and walk back towards the nymphs to prove something, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk incurring the wrath of a goddess, especially one who ruled over the dead. But that wrath never came to be.

“As I said, this is a day of learning for me. I have been trying to learn the secrets of this forest so that I might bring some life back underground.” Agatha laughed, a raspy sound that Tedros almost hoped he could hear again. He wanted to help, wanted this day to have some purpose. Maybe he could make her laugh again. He clamored for the opportunity to do something different in his life. 

“Growing plant life isn’t that difficult,” Tedros brightened up slightly,“let me show you.” 

Tedros focused on the base of a tree and, slowly, mushrooms sprouted from the undergrowth. A bit of a show-off, Tedros added tendrils of vines and poppies and marigolds until the tree’s base looked as though it had its own ecosystem. Agatha stared silently, slowly revealing a grin.  _ Does it look a bit creepy _ , Tedros thought,  _ or is it just me? _

“Spring God,” Agatha started.

“Tedros.”

“Tedros,” Agatha said calmly. “Do you think such growth could occur in the Underworld?” 

Tedros thought for a second. “I’ve never visited an area where I couldn’t grow something,” he admitted. “Sometimes the land just needs an extra bit of love and affection before it can support any life.” 

Agatha grinned. “You’ll be perfect.” The goddess snapped her fingers, and a midnight horse trotted up next to her. Before Tedros could even ask what he would be perfect for, he found himself thrown on the horse with Agatha and rushed away from the only part of the world he had lived in. 

“Put me down!” He screeched. But Agatha only gripped his torso tighter and told the steed to ride faster. Tedros shouted and screamed for help until his throat felt raw and pink like the flowers he gathered for Yara. 

_ Yara! The nymphs! They’re going to be fraught with grief _ , Tedros thought, dropping the flowers in distress. His hand had turned almost as pale as the one grasping his waist. Those flowers were the only worldly possession he had other than the clothes on his back, and HE HAD DROPPED THEM. He should have never asked after the shadow; he should have minded his business like Beatrix said and forgot about it. 

_ I’m never going to see them again _ , he thought through tears. Agatha obviously didn’t care if he cried or screamed or shouted at Merlin on Mount Olympus himself — Agatha was going to do Merlin-knows-what with him and he was never going to see a fern or flower or tree or anything green again. He shouldn’t have wished for adventure. Guinevere would seethe if she heard of how ungrateful he had been with his idyllic life. Tedros wouldn’t even see her again to hear her dole out a punishment for being kidnapped.

But what Tedros thought didn’t really matter, because soon the world opened up beneath the midnight mare’s hooves and swallowed him and the goddess of the Underworld whole. 

\-------------------------------------

Even the light from Anadil’s chariot cannot penetrate the depths of the Underworld. The sun chariot, pulled by Reena, doesn’t dare stray into the darkness — for what is darkness, but an absence of light? As the ground Above shines with moonlight for half its life, the ground below will never see a splotch of it. And so goes those in the Underworld.

\-------------------------------------

Tedros stood out like a sore thumb in the Underworld. The chiton that once made him blend into the forest now served as a reminder of what he lost. After he woke up in an unusual room in a dark castle, Tedros found that he had been drained of his anger. Instead, it had been replaced with sadness: sadness that he would never see the light of day again. 

He fumbled blindly, grasping against the walls until his palm collided with a jar resting on some sort of shelf embedded in the wall. If he leaned in close enough, he could just barely read the words “shake me.” The young god didn’t know what else to do, so he shook. Light began to emit from the jar, and only then did Tedros realize that it was full of firefly souls. He almost dropped the jar in disgust — only stopping himself because he would have no other light source. It was a pale substitute to the brilliance brought upon life by Reena every day. Tedros stared into the jar with such a deep hatred of this decrepit place that his flower crown wilted and died on the spot, turning from a light serene blue to a deep, disturbing muddy black. Tedros had never caused the death of a life before, but today was  _ just _ full of surprises. 

Holding up the light revealed a dark door set against iron. Tedros put all of his power into shoving the door open with his shoulder, only to find that force to be unnecessary — Agatha hadn’t locked the door at all. Tedros went flying out the room and into a long, cold corridor, the dark tiles smacking his face as his living breath exited his immortal body.

“Hello?” Tedros called out hesitantly into the stagnant air. No response. He walked cautiously through the long corridor, ready to jump if anyone appeared. 

_ Maybe I should have brought a sword when I ran into Agatha that first time _ , Tedros thought. As if he even knew where to find one. Merlin knows his mother wouldn’t let him go for a jaunt down to visit Brone and have him forge him a sword. Not that he knew what Brone even looked like. Come to think of it, he didn’t know what any of the higher up gods and goddesses looked like. It’s a wonder Agatha didn’t smite him on the spot for not having such common knowledge. And speaking of Agatha, where was she?

The corridor opened up into an empty hall. Tedros’ footsteps, usually silent against the forest floor, echoed dissonantly against the smooth marble flooring. Everything here was pitch black, but smaller and stuffier and  _ less alive _ . Tedros hated it. He half expected ravens to caw at him from the rafters of this putrid castle, but then he remembered that there was nothing living here. Present god aside, of course. Each footstep reminded him of how much he’d unwillingly left behind. He was such an ungrateful god. Recently, mortals had begun setting up shrines in his name as opposed to just his mother. Tedros took a left and then walked down a flight of stairs. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him — he just needed to go somewhere.

Time doesn’t pass the same way for mortals as it does for gods and goddesses, so Tedros had no idea what hour it was when he abruptly found the exit to the dark and empty castle.  _ Why have a castle in the first place if no one lives in it? _ But an empty castle, remarkably, sounded better than crashing into his kidnapper while wandering around.

He couldn’t turn his head to the sky as he once did to see the time of day. Though he hadn’t given it a second thought above ground, he missed the brilliant touches of sunlight sent down by Reena and the moonbeams by Anadil. If he ever left here in one piece, he would seriously consider erecting shrines for both of them. A god making shrines for other immortals? Now that was a joke! Tedros wouldn’t have to worry about that anyway unless he could find a way out of the Underworld, which he was desperately trying. 

Tedros’ bare feet touched Underworld soil for the first time as he stepped out of the castle, but it didn’t feel right. The soil had caked up into dry pieces, and had fissures and cracks everywhere. He brought his hand down to the ground to confirm that it was even soil in the first place, but he wasn’t mistaken the first time: the only way to differentiate between the black marble and so-called soil was through their sounds. Every step Tedros now took was muted — not the same as walking through a meadow, just eerily silent. 

Tedros would have cried at the sound of a cricket or rabbit racing through the underbrush right now. Tedros didn’t think anyone could ever give this ground enough love to produce a single snow pea, let alone an entire ecosystem. Agatha would be crazy for attempting such a mess. So why was she even above ground trying to learn in the first place? As if Tedros would ever grow something again for his kidnapper.  _ Who could grow something here? _ Tedros kicked at an angular stone.  _ I could. Of course, that’s why she brought me here. I shouldn’t have flaunted my powers. _

He didn’t want to continue. All he wanted to do was curl up in a sad little ball on the cold ground and wake up under the stars once more. He didn’t want to move, but every step he took was another step away from Agatha’s castle, so Tedros continued onward. The lack of flora and fauna within the big cave Tedros crept through sapped his strength. He clutched at the firefly jar like his life depended on it since it did. He would be no better off than a lost soul if it broke. Small pools of lava inside the basalt plains reminded him to be wary. Gods could still feel pain, after all. If he wasn’t painfully aware of their danger, he would find their warm glow attractive. They illuminated the massive stalactites that towered above Tedros. Each one poised above Tedros, ready to strike him with one wrong step, he didn’t dare look at them for too long. They made him feel  _ small _ .

Using the fireflies as a guide, he walked until he hit water. He could barely see the other bank, edging closer to see if the Styx was really as big as Chaddick had made it out to be all those years ago. Not like the nymph had actually seen it — none of them had. He crept closer and closer, drawn in towards the deep purple fog set against the unnaturally clear waters. He had expected them to be bloodstained. Tedros almost wanted to see beastlike fish swimming throughout the depths and was again reminded of the Underworld’s emptiness. What caused him to pause from the fog’s embrace was that he could see the bottom of the Styx. Merlin, it went on and on, but he could  _ see  _ the bottom. The darkness of the Underworld had decided to leave the depths of the Styx untouched. The fog beckoned him closer, and in the end, he gave in.

_ The mortals must like it here _ , Tedros thought, _ it’s calming to a fault. _ Then he realized that he was up to his ankles in Styx water. The temperature of it was oddly nonexistent, as though he wouldn’t know he was standing in it unless he looked down. 

_ Huh _ , Tedros stared at the infamous river of hatred in awe,  _ the nymphs were wrong to say that it could boil someone’s skin _ . 

\-------------------------------------

It is said that Agatha once went to Anadil, begging that she allow some moonbeams to shine onto the River Styx, to remind the mortal souls of that which they held dear in life. Anadil refused, of course, saying that she would never bless a river that her Hester could not come across during a hunt.

\-------------------------------------

The Styx swelled with the passing of a small wooden dinghy, too close to the banks for Tedros’ comfort. 

_ It would seem as though it’s coming towards me,  _ Tedros observed. Sure enough, the vessel was sailing towards the river bank, though not to visit Tedros. The metal bow ground into the bank, before allowing a handful of misty-looking figures to step off.  _ Souls _ , Tedros thought, glancing from the boat to the firefly souls within his glowing jar. Only when the last soul left the boat did a decidedly solid looking figure step off. She had a long, tall stick to propel the dinghy forward, and the bone structure to match it.

“With garb like that,” she said, one eyebrow raised at Tedros’ outfit, “I would’ve thought you to be another soul. Though you don’t catch many souls waiting for a boat ride from this side of the banks.” Tedros desperately wished his mother had shown him some pottery sculptures of the gods and goddesses or taken him to meet him or  _ something _ because he had no idea who this woman was. 

_ Is this woman going to kidnap me too? _

At Tedros’ lack of a response, the ferrier sighed, lapsing into her explaining monologue. “Callis. Of the Underworld. Ferrier of the dead across the Styx. Ringing any bells, kid?” 

Tedros’ eyes widened at the name. “I’ve heard of you. Didn’t think I’d actually meet you in my life. Then he mumbled, “Nymphs told me I’d boil in the Styx before I could ever make it across.”

“Speak up, kid. Don’t care about your sad backstory. I don’t care until I’m off work,” Callis looked at a small sundial tattooed on her wrist charmed to tell the time without Reena’s aid, “and you’re lucky because now I’m off work. So, what’s the matter?” 

Tedros opened his mouth, but no words came up. How could he describe what he’s been through? He didn’t know if he should even try, so instead he pleaded, “Can you get me out of this place?”

Callis squinted. “Out of the Underworld? Oh, you poor soul, who dragged you under? Nobody returns from the Underworld.”

“But I’m a god!” Tedros shouted. “Agatha brought me down here! There must be a way out! I can’t be stuck in this dingy place forever!”

Callis sobered up, doing a onceover of this all-white looking god kid, stuck on her riverbanks. “I wish I could, kid. But Agatha’s my boss. For all I know, I’d be thrown in Tartarus for even thinking of getting you outta here. The best I can give you is my lunch.” Pulling out a basket from the dinghy, Callis offered up a sandwich. “It’s egg and watercress. Want?”

Tedros shook his head, tears beading up from his eyes. He ran away from Callis, but tripped on one of those stupid beach stones. The firefly jar shattered, scattering the souls into the dark sky. He cried like he had gone through one thousand years of heartache and despair, hopelessness taking over him with Callis staring from a distance. But she had a job down here, a calling, and eventually she had to ferry her way back across the river to collect more souls. 

He was truly alone. He cried until his face brushed up against something soft and velvety, something not of the Underworld. He sniffled, cheeks flushed as red as twin summer cherries. He took deep breaths to calm himself and looked in front of him — and gasped. A black lily. 


	3. to swear on the river styx

\-------------------------------------

Mortal philosophers argued about the black lily. Poets described it as the only being in the world that Anadil and Reena cannot touch, but that is not true. The black lily just absorbs light. No, the only untouchable being in this world — or rather,  _ under  _ it — was Agatha, goddess of the Underworld. 

\-------------------------------------

Tedros grasped at the lily’s petals once more, to confirm its existence. His tears and disgusting sniffling had grown something beautiful, but it wasn’t the only being that answered his echoing call into the darkness. 

“Tedros, god of spring growth, why are you crying?” Agatha asked as she descended from her night mare. 

The god scrambled away from her as fast as he could, his legs too wobbly to support him. He scooted away until his back met a cool stone. “Why am I  _ crying _ ?” Tedros spat, “well  _ maybe _ it’s because you kidnapped me. Maybe it’s because you trapped me in your stupid, empty castle. Maybe it’s —”

Her calm voice interrupted him. “Tedros, I brought you here so that you could study the soil here with me. To see if anything could really grow here. You said it yourself: _ I’ve never visited an area where I couldn’t grow something _ , so I thought you could help me out.”

“HELP YOU? You kidnapped me! Why would I help a monster?” 

Agatha looked a bit hurt when he said monster.

_ Good _ , he thought in a huff,  _ let her be hurt after what she put me through _ .

“I — ” Agatha wavered, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Let’s just say I don’t really get along with immortals above ground. You’ve been the first to hold a complete conversation with me in centuries. Usually, those cowards send down some hero to smack around Reaper for a bit, steal Callis’ dinghy, and then mock me. I thought you wanted to help me.”

“I don’t care if the other gods and goddesses mock you. I don’t even know what they look like. Send me back please. I don’t know what to do with myself here. It’s  _ so _ dark.”

But Agatha was only half listening, finally noticing the black lily Tedros had sprouted. 

The goddess of the Underworld brightened up. “So you can grow life down here. I’m impressed.” Then her face returned to its somber state. “My sincerest apologies for taking you. I am so out of touch with the others that I barely even speak with Callis anymore.” Agatha sank to Tedros’ level on the beach, sitting down on the wet sand and rocks. “Do you really want to go home? You can stay down here if you want, but I saw you, Above. You looked sad. I put you in the largest suite in my castle as a guest of honor.” 

_ Wasn’t like I could see the room to begin with _ , Tedros thought. He wanted nothing more than to permit the tears to come back, but he couldn’t in front of  _ her _ .

“I don’t care what you thought I looked like,” he couldn’t bear to admit that she was right. “Send me home.” 

Agatha sighed, “As you wish. Although I do want to thank you for the lily — if you ever need me, for any reason, you can call out my name. This will only work once, so use it wisely.  _ I swear on the River Styx that I will come to your aid _ .”

Before Tedros could even begin to contemplate why the goddess had sworn on the River Styx for him, he was suddenly tumbling through the void once more, tree roots pulling him back above ground to where he belonged. 

\-------------------------------------

_ Maybe I will keep the black lily, _ Agatha mused,  _ so that there will be one plant that will never have to experience the glaring heat of Reena or the muggy beams of Anadil. Just like me.  _

\-------------------------------------

Falling back up took a toll on the body. Merlin knows if Tedros had been human, he would have required bedrest for at least a month. He pulled himself up from the forest floor, leaves stuck to his chest. This was where Agatha stole him away into the night. He began to turn and look back to where the midnight mare had appeared when —

“Tedros? Tedros!” Dot burst out of the bushes, knees scraped from frantically searching. 

Beatrix grasped his face in her palms, as if to make sure he was really there. “Oh Merlin, we thought some harpy or satyr stole you away!”

_ Felt like it _ , Tedros thought. He began to brush himself off, but Kiko had already started picking the twigs from his flaxen hair, and all the nymphs were all dusting off his chiton to confirm he was back. They needed tangible evidence, though Tedros found all of their warm touches a bit overwhelming.

“Please stop. I can do it myself,” he said in a small voice. The nymphs all backed away, no longer able to mask their worry behind cheerful smiles and happy stories. 

“What happened to you?” Chaddick asked, almost putting a hand on Tedros’ shoulder before stopping mid-action and retracting it. 

Tedros couldn’t tell them what had happened. He had suffered enough; he didn’t want them to relive it with him. “I . . .”  _ what to do, what to say? _ “. . . got lost in the forest last night.”

There was a deep intake of breath from the nymphs. The god of spring growth, lost in the forest? They didn’t want to press him. Must have been a rough night. 

_ Maybe he ran into Ravan and was lured into dancing all night. That would be embarrassing, _ Dot thought. She indicated towards the direction of their home. “Let’s get you back, okay?” The other nymphs guided him back, choosing not to notice that he returned  _ different _ . 


	4. mother knows best

\-------------------------------------

Incur the wrath of the sun, and your crops will never grow. Incur the wrath of the moon, and you will never know a moment of rest. But incur the wrath of a _ mother _ ? You will live in more agony than you ever thought possible.

\-------------------------------------

“Tedros, my darling!” Guinevere clamored frantically to pull him into an embrace. Though he had only disappeared for a night, she acted like it had been millenia. “I never thought I would see you again! What were you thinking?”

Tedros sighed. “I got lost.”

She immediately darkened, lowering her brows. “I can’t believe you would do something like that. Did you ever think once how it would affect me? I’ve been pacing for a good two hours,” Guinevere seethed. A small ring of closed rose buds encircled Tedros’ head: shame. He wanted nothing more than to scrabble away from her grasp, and fast.

“I can’t imagine what would have happened if a creature of the night got its grubby claws on you. I wouldn’t have been able to go on,” Guinevere clutched at her heart — as if an immortal could ever suffer a heart attack — and inhaled deeply. “From now on, I forbid you to visit the darker parts of the forest. You and your nymph friends have had great fun in the meadow and the creek, so there’s no need to go any further. I can’t lose my baby again,” she decreed.

Thickened, thorny branches began to grow, only to retract immediately as Tedros noticed he was losing control over his emotions. “Mother!” Tedros needed to escape her grasp. “Please, no!” If he still had any tears left, he would cry, but all he felt was a dryness seeping throughout his body. “There’s nothing wrong with the deeper forest! It was my mistake.”

“I know it was your mistake,” Guinevere cooed. “That’s why I can’t let you make the same mistake again. I would be a failure as a mother.” The goddess finally let Tedros go from her constricting grasp. She smiled, her anger abruptly lost in a passing breeze. “Go and play with the nymphs. They’ve been waiting for you.” And with that, Guinevere gave Tedros a little push towards them and left to conduct other business. 

The nymphs, all huddled together behind Tedros, waited for him to walk up to them before pulling him into a warm embrace.  _ It’s nice to be home _ , Tedros thought. The nymphs led him to the field, where they began weaving new flower crowns. As hands pulled him back into the sweet grass, he forced himself to turn away from the forest and towards his family. He was home. That’s all that should matter. He could learn to live without the forest. It was his fault in the first place, after all. 

\-------------------------------------

Shortly after the birth of Tedros, Guinevere visited Anadil. She requested that Anadil send gentle moonbeams down to the meadow Tedros would grow up in. Anadil initially refused. She would not direct her moonbeams to where Hester would never see them. But Anadil lost that night, and the moonbeams shone gently down upon Tedros and the nymphs every night there after. It was the only time Anadil had ever obeyed. She had to. She couldn’t risk losing Hester. 

\-------------------------------------

Chaddick had stopped challenging everyone to foraging competitions. Tedros knew it was his own fault: the best mushrooms grew in the dark forest, tangled under vines and shadows. Instead, Chaddick held berry-picking contests, flower cultivation challenges, and anything else that ensured Tedros wouldn’t venture under the forest canopy.

Any time Tedros so much as reached for a berry shaded by the forest, he found himself guided back to a brighter, more appropriate bush. 

“It’s for your own safety,” Yara had whispered once. Tedros just felt relieved to be back with his family, but also guilty that none of the nymphs could frolic in the forest either. Yet the nymphs put on such a show of happiness that Tedros soon learned to stop thinking about it and move on. He was home. The nymph’s voices reminded him of that.

“Come play with us!” Beatrix shouted from across the meadow.

“I found a new insect!” Dot grinned.

“I’m heading down to the creek. Don’t get boiled in the River Styx on your way down,” Chaddick called to Tedros. The spring god flinched briefly at that remark. He wanted to tell Chaddick that he was wrong, that the Styx didn’t boil but  _ shine _ . But he ducked his head under the water and joined in with the nymphs and their water games. Tedros had one secret to his name, and it was one that he could never reveal to anyone. 

Though the first embraces from the nymphs were jarring, Tedros soon learned to forget about the empty caverns of the Underworld and the clear depths of the River Styx. He now tasted the brilliance of sweet berries and basked in the love of his family once more. Dot always took care to show him the secret areas underneath bushes where he could find the most berries and win, and Tedros wanted to win. Just not this way — he hated winning out of pity. But he would always accept it and move on. The nymphs were his family. He owed it to them.

As gentle light from Anadil guided him to sleep one night, Tedros squeezed his eyes so tightly that it was as if he was back underground. He learned to sleep lighter after that, to let more light in, even in sleep. 

Months swirled together, passing by Tedros defiantly, and soon it had almost been a half-year. During that time, Tedros had run across the meadow countless times, picked and ate berries until his lips turned blood red, and swam in the creek almost every afternoon. The trees towards the end of the creek were always blissfully light, with not one of them sporting an extra shadow. Tedros would know. He looked every time. Not because he necessarily  _ wanted _ to see her again, but because he needed to remember that what he experienced actually happened. The whimsy and merriness from the valley washed over him as though he was another stone in the creek bed, and he found it harder and harder to recall the angular memories of the Underworld.

The nights and days passed by without so much as a care in the world. Reena and Anadil did not care that Tedros was living the same day and night over and over again.  _ That’s their job, _ Tedros thought one night.  _ But if all the gods and goddesses I’ve heard about and met have jobs, then what is mine? I don’t have to grow anything. Guinevere could continue on fine without me. Even the nymphs have duties to protect specific trees and flowers within the valley. What do I have? I have nothing.  _

Chaddick to his left and Beatrix to his right, Tedros stared at the stars. A star grew closer and closer until he realized it was not a star, but a firefly.  _ A real one this time. Not one of those sad souls from the jar _ , Tedros thought. Maybe growing something, anything, in the Underworld would give him purpose. Because he had no purpose here.  _ Mother won’t even let me out of this valley _ . Guilt flooded him once again.  _ I’m so selfish. Mortals would sacrifice one hundred cattle to see even a glimpse of this place, and I will live here for eternity.  _ Tedros’ eyes widened at the thought: Eternity.  _ That’s such a long time.  _

The thought of eternity eventually led his thoughts to the one deity he couldn’t shake.  _ Agatha isn’t such a bad goddess, right? She just has bad people skills _ .  _ Maybe she needs some help once in a while.  _ Tedros mashed his hand into his face.  _ What am I thinking? She’s a monster. _


	5. to call upon a goddess

\-------------------------------------

The immortal chariot riders knew where their light hits in the morning and the night, and they also know where it does not. They knew that there is one plant  _ under  _ that will never raise its stalk up to meet them. They wanted to help it, to save it from the cruel depths, but neither would ever venture down there to save the black lily. It’s too far gone, tainted by the Underworld and  _ her _ grasp.

\-------------------------------------

Midnight. Tedros carefully maneuvered himself out from under the nymphs’ limbs and crept away into the shadows. Clouds obscured the moon, a rare occurrence in the meadow, still casting Tedros’ surroundings in just enough light for him to sneak away. He needed to be alone for this. 

The walk to the edge of the forest ended faster than he had anticipated. What he needed was a short adventure. Something different from the last months of the same. A few steps into the forest wouldn’t hurt. Besides, the nymphs all slept soundly in the meadow, and his mother was away on harvesting business. He could do it. There was nothing to be afraid of. He knew he could, yet the first step was the worst. The shadow blooming underneath the tree reminded him of that horrid dirt in the Underworld. Another step. And another. And another. Soon, he couldn’t see the meadow at all.

His heartbeat slowed to match the lulling pace of the slow-growing forest, and with a flick of his hand, some glowing toadstools sprouted at the base of a tree. He had almost forgotten their beauty.  _ The darkness is where the most interesting life prevails, _ he realized, _ or anything under the shade must work twice as hard to even grow an inch _ . 

“Agatha,” he blurted, shattering the night’s silence. He said her name like a friend’s. Before his brain could catch up to his mouth, a towering figure appeared before him. He had forgotten how tall she was after such a long time apart. 

Agatha gripped her two-pronged trident, on edge. “Who is attacking you, god of spring growth — how do you wish me to rip your attacker apart?” 

“There’s no one here but me!” Tedros stammered, indicating to the empty forest.

“Why did you call upon me then? I can only honor such a request once,” Agatha cocked her head.

Bending down to pluck at the glowing mushrooms like an extension of his own skin, Tedros replied, “I — I don’t know.” 

“Well, if you’re fine then, I’ll be off.”

Tedros reached out to grab at the fabric of Agatha’s dark peplos. “Wait no! Don’t leave!”

Agatha raised an eyebrow and let out a laugh. It reminded Tedros of the way a waterfall pummelled into the rocks below. “What do you want me to do then? Eat some berries with you and the other nymphs? I’m sure they’d love to meet me.” Agatha grinned, her pointed teeth glinting in the light of the mushrooms.

“How do you know what we do?”

“Just because you grew something in my domain doesn’t mean I’ve had success doing it myself. I’ve been back to this valley almost every week to study the plant life. It’s different here. More wild. More free. I like it. You and your nymphs are all over the place. I see you all the time.”

Tedros met her eyes in shock. “I didn’t see you though. I looked.”

“You looked  _ for me _ ? That’s sweet. Did you consider that I didn’t want to be found?”

“Oh.”

“Regardless. State your purpose before I return to the Underworld. Unless,” Agatha twisted a piece of hair around her finger in a way that reminded Tedros of Kiko and her bouncing curls, “you actually want to take me up on that tea party request?”

Tedros looked back towards his family. Then back to Agatha. “I want to go back.”

“Back to your meadow? You don’t need to ask me. Go,” she shooed him away from herself.

“No. I want to go back down.”

“Ohhh.” Agatha let out a genuine smile. 

_ It’s quite a pretty smile in this light _ , Tedros noticed. He quickly squashed it. “I can’t stay up here. Not going to lie, your place is terrifying, but at least it’s something new. Did it occur to you that it’s horrendously dark down there?”

“Well, it is the Underworld. No sun or moon and all. I’ll send after Sophie to decorate the castle with more firefly lighting. Merlin knows she’s been absolutely  _ dying  _ to decorate down there.” Agatha snorted a bit. 

Tedros didn’t laugh at her joke.  _ The goddess of witchcraft and magic enjoys decorating?  _

“Are you sure you want to come? You looked so miserable down there, like another pale soul wandering around the beach. You seem to forget your sadness.”

Tedros nodded, though his shoulders shook. It wasn’t like he was happy up here either.  _ What was the Underworld but a darker version of his meadow? _ Should he really leave the perfect life and venture into the darkness? Tedros willfully ignored the nymphs’ sadness and his mother’s anger upon his return after only one night. There was an obvious choice to take.

“I’ll bring you back under one condition: show me how to grow more plants in my domain. The souls in Elysium are getting restless and need something new to enjoy. Some souls deserve to wander around in a wasteland for eternity, but not them. They’re the lucky few.” Agatha held out her hand. “We got a deal?”

Tedros did not hesitate this time. “One second.” Agatha watched as Tedros tore a smooth piece of birch bark from a tree and wrote to his family that he was taking a journey of discovery and meditation in the valley. He snapped his fingers, the note vanishing from his vision and appearing between Chaddick and Beatrix. The nymphs would understand. Agatha awkwardly held her hand out the entire time, not sure what to do with it. 

_ Perhaps she’s worried I’m going to back out. She must think I’m crazy.  _ Tedros reached out to Agatha, his hand meeting hers. It was ice cold. “You got a deal.” 

“Don’t be surprised if you wake up in something black. Sophie loves guests, especially permanent ones,” Agatha said matter of factly.

“Wha —”

This time, the ground disappearing beneath his feet was almost comforting. He didn’t want to throw up at the sight of the void. He better not regret this decision. Agatha had no reason to return him above ground ever again. He went willingly.  _ Remember why you called her _ , he thought, his eyes closing as blackness overtook them.  _ You have no purpose on the surface _ .


	6. hot pink in the underworld

\-------------------------------------

Mortals would never dare step into the Underworld on purpose. It was a fool’s errand. A journey that only one in a million would return from in one piece. But all those that dared to journey to the Underworld had one common goal: to  _ take _ . And Tedros was no mortal looking for a chunk of the Underworld to show off as a prize when he returned. There was no returning from  _ this _ . 

\-------------------------------------

Just as Agatha said, Tedros woke up enveloped in black. It was somehow soft as a flower petal, but warm enough that he wasn’t shivering with every step. He rose from the equally black bed, noting that his new outfit was long and flowy like Agatha’s. 

_ Why does she always disappear? _

“Darling.”

Tedros jolted as he saw a figure emerging from the doorway. 

“You look absolutely fabulous.”

“Sophie?”

“The one and only.” Sophie was dressed in a look that stood out starkly from the blackness of the walls. 

_ Hot pink. This goddess is wearing hot pink in the  _ Underworld.  _ Who’s a sore thumb now?  _ Tedros couldn’t help but stare. She looked like a vivid carnation. Her lips, a luscious ruby, were probably painted with the blood of the souls unfortunate enough to slight her. 

“I know you would love to gaze upon me all day, but I have to lay down Agatha’s law for you, flower god.” Sophie pulled out a piece of parchment. “Per Agatha’s degree, the entire palace will be refurbished by yours truly by the end of the day. You were out for a while, so I took the liberty to go ahead and decorate. Lighting everywhere! Hazzah!”

“Thanks,” Tedros muttered.

“No need to thank me! I have been  _ dying _ to do this!” Sophie laughed.

_ So Agatha and Sophie have the same sense of humor? Makes sense,  _ Tedros thought.  _ Agatha must have a tremendous amount of trust to put Sophie in charge of the castle _ .

Sophie continued reading from her scroll. “I have dressed you in the customary apparel of the Underworld, which I’ve insisted on updating for centuries, but Agatha always tells me, ‘ _ No! It’s traditional _ .’” The witchcraft goddess reached the final decree on her list. “Finally, you have complete freedom underground, for some reason. Even I cannot go everywhere under here. Must be a good reason for Agatha to decide that,” Sophie raised her eyebrow suggestively at Tedros, who turned red as Sophie’s lips. 

_ I’m sure Agatha doesn’t care enough about my safety to tell me where not to go. Though it is a pleasant difference from my meadow and its rules _ , Tedros thought. He then immediately decided not to think of his aboveground life at all under here. No point.

Sophie grinned at his silence. “Also, I put you in Agatha’s bed. I’m off to tourture some poor, unfortunate souls now! Flah sé dah!” Leaving Tedros wide-eyed and mouth agape, Sophie strode out the room, the pink fabric of her dress swishing behind her in style.

Tedros’ heart beat rapidly.  _ This is her room? _ He took in its sparseness. There was a bed, a bedside table, a closet, and two firefly jars — probably set up by Sophie.  _ I wonder if there’s anything in the table drawer _ . Tedros began reaching for the drawer’s handle before stopping himself. Agatha wasn’t another nymph, which meant she would likely take this as a violation of her privacy. Tedros stared at the handle. Not everything was his within the underground.  _ That’s oddly refreshing _ , he thought.

Tedros left the room, turning a corner, only to be awestruck by millions upon millions of firefly souls. Some were encased within ornate fixtures from the ceiling, while others floated freely to do what they wished. He padded his way through the hallway to the leading ballroom, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

_ It’s no wonder Agatha never let Sophie decorate, this certainly isn’t her style. _ In any case, it was definitely his. The brilliance dissipated any would-be shadows.  _ Nothing to be afraid of here. _

\-------------------------------------

The Underworld. Agatha’s labyrinth. Storytellers have conjured up a list of names for the place that would take an eternity to read aloud. Agatha has one herself:  _ the lonely abyss _ . Renowned storytellers also like to say that Agatha did nothing but sit on her throne all day, laughing at those below her. Others would argue that she instead did all the labor herself. Agatha never visited any storyteller to comment on their information’s authenticity, and so the knowledge remained a mystery to all those Above. The immortals personally didn’t care what Agatha did, so long as no souls escaped. 

\-------------------------------------

Agatha meticulously read through the mortal scrolls. Shelved from wall to ceiling in a hidden cavern, they told the stories of all the souls who descended to her domain. It was not her job to deal with these on a daily basis, she left that job to August and Yuba. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t check up on the scrolls regularly.

_ Just one more scroll. I would receive the blame if Yuba or August filed one of these away incorrectly, _ Agatha convinced herself, but they never did. Agatha needed an excuse to keep herself away from Tedros, the flowery god. There was something sad bringing him back down here when she had caused him suffering before.  _ By Merlin, I swore on the Styx, but at what cost? _ At least his presence would give her the opportunity to learn more about plant magic. She wouldn’t have to watch from the shadows as Tedros brought new life into existence. 

A crimson scroll burst into existence in front of Agatha’s face. She grabbed it out of the air, but not before placing the half-read mortal scroll back within its tube and shelving it correctly.

The scroll had Sophie’s handwriting:  _ Your pretty god is awake. I let him rest on your bed because I couldn’t stand to put him on one of those stone slabs you sadly call a guest bed. Lots of kisses, Sophie _ .

Agatha was fuming when she reached the end of the note.  _ Sophie put him in MY BED! _ Agatha ripped the scroll to shreds, abandoning the scroll room in search of Tedros.  _ If he looked inside my bedside table, I will end him _ , Agatha thought. Nobody touched her worldly possessions and survived. But the thought of him curled up in her bed made her feel weird. She would give Tedros a pass this time — it wasn’t his fault.  _ I already arranged for a room, and Sophie goes and does that? _ Agatha planned to have a stern discussion with Sophie about personal boundaries. 

She flew over to the castle, dodging vats of lava with ease. Touching ground at the doorway, she walked inside. No need to lock a door everyone was afraid of entering.  _ Home _ , she thought. 

Her shoes echoed against the marble as she rushed over to her room, only to discover that it was empty. _The bedside table looks untouched, at least._ _I would know if he opened it_. But where was the god? Agatha soon found herself peering down long corridors and up staircases. _Where was he?_ She walked into the ballroom. _Are the constellations holding a ball in here?_

Agatha couldn’t see. She held her hand up to her eyes and squinted, but still, nothing. Only a searing light that immediately caused a throbbing headache. The sun’s rays above ground were bad enough, but this was somehow worse. Placing her hand against a pillar for support, Agatha could see nothing, but what she could  _ hear _ startled her. The light pitter pattering of someone running closer towards her. 

The goddess summoned her trident and swung it out into the light. “Who goes there?” She bellowed.  _ I can’t see, I can’t see — _

“It’s me!”

Agatha recognized that flowery voice on the spot. None of the immortals down here had such a sweet sound. “Spring god. You startled me.”

“I noticed.”

Agatha squinted in the hopes of sharpening his silhouette but ultimately gave up. Her trident disappeared.

Though she couldn’t see her own pained expression, Tedros certainly could. “Is my room back that way?” Tedros indicated behind Agatha.

“Yes.” Agatha felt a warm hand against her back, leading her out of the dreadful room. She called out instructions out from memory as they went up a floor and down different passages until her vision returned. 

“All better?” Tedros allowed his hand to fall from her back. 

“Yes,” Agatha replied shakily.  _ I can’t believe I let him help me, much less ease my pain.  _ “I’m fine. Here is your room.” Agatha indicated to a door. “I’ll be back in two hours. See that it’s comfortable enough for yourself.”

“How can I track the time? I usually follow the sun.”

“Oh.”  _ Obviously _ . Agatha withdrew her wrist from her long sleeve, revealing a sundial tattoo. “All of the immortals down here have them. Tells the time without Reena’s interference. It only appears when you will it to.”

“Can I have one?” Tedros asked. If Agatha didn’t know any better, she would have thought that he sounded eager.

“As you wish.” Agatha waved her left hand in an up-down motion, and the sun-dial appeared on Tedros’ right wrist before disappearing. 

“See you in two hours.” Agatha hurried off, embarrassed, but Tedros barely noticed. He flung open his room, a luxury he never had Above, and walked inside, feet meeting dried grass. 

_ Huh?  _ Tedros looked down. Someone had covered the entire floor of the room, his room, with decaying grass. It was a sweet gesture at least, if not a bit ill-conceived.  _ I have a lot of work to do down here, _ Tedros thought.  _ Finally.  _ But first, he flopped himself down onto  _ his _ bed: the first thing he could call his own. 


	7. revelations over dinner

\-------------------------------------

Sophie had complained to herself during the whole journey, up and down. Agatha really sent her  _ Above _ for some  _ grass _ ? 

_ Whatever _ , she thought.  _ It’s all going to die soon enough _ . 

\-------------------------------------

Agatha sent off a scroll to Sophie as she moved further and further away from Tedros’ room, telling the goddess to dim those Merlin-forsaken lights in the ballroom. She received a response in a matter of seconds.

“ _ I don’t know, Queen. The firefly souls seemed to tell me that your flower god enjoyed their glow. Are you really going to make him sad again? XOXO Sophie,” _ it read. Agatha tore up the scroll afterwards. Tedros wasn’t  _ her flower god _ . He was a colleague. A chance to learn something new after spending the last decade analyzing the dusty sedimentary layers of the Underworld. 

_ What’s the use of ruling around here if I don’t know how this domain works?  _ Regardless, Agatha made Sophie remove most of the fireflies. Her head still pounded from that room — she made a note to herself to not walk through it for a while.  _ I wonder if he enjoys sunlight like a common plant. That must be it,  _ she thought, waiting for the two hours to pass. She had much to learn, but first, dinner. 

Picking at her food, she watched in silence as Tedros heartily enjoyed the meal. She hadn’t dined with anyone in ages, refusing to join Sophie for tea parties along the River Styx. It’s not like immortals needed to eat anything in the first place, but she had to respect the rules of hospitality. The two sat at an obscenely long table, Agatha sitting at the helm, and Tedros to her right. 

“This is really good,” Tedros said between bites.

“It’s a blend of herbs, spices, and souls that makes the dish taste that way.” Agatha couldn’t help herself.

Tedros dropped his fork, doing a double take at his food. “Souls?”

“I’m kidding — you above grounders are so skittish when it comes to jokes.”

“Probably because I couldn’t tell you were joking,” Tedros responded. He slowly regained his appetite and continued eating. Agatha pushed her plate towards him, which he gladly accepted. She didn’t know what to say, how to continue a conversation that had seemingly finished before she could get it off the ground. What she instead did was  _ watch _ , as pink flowers began to bloom from Tedros’ hair.

“There’s something in your hair,” Agatha tried to point out helpfully. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Tedros reached up to his scalp, brushing his hand along the petals. Offhandedly, Agatha wished she could do the same. Tedros’ cheeks grew pink to match the flowers. “It’s not on purpose,” he said into his rapidly diminishing meal.

_ So he can grow life in the Underworld by accident, yet I cannot do it after years of study? _ “Why did they grow then?” Agatha had to know more. 

“Uhhhh,” Tedros’ eating ceased for the second time this meal, both times because of Agatha. “It’s emotion related. The nymphs all used to make fun of me for it.”

“What emotion is it now?” Agatha pressed. “Fear? Sophie wears pink to instill fear into the souls of mortals,” she said, more as a note to herself than to Tedros. She could tell that Tedros was going to be a goldmine of information for her. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake to bring him down here.

“Joy.”

Agatha’s mouth set into a straight line. She stared at him. “You’re happy down here?”

“This is the best food I’ve had in ages.”

“So you’re happy about the food, then?” Agatha couldn’t figure this god out.

“I’m happy to be  _ free _ .”

“Free of w — ” Agatha cut herself off. During her sketching sessions in the valley, she had seen Tedros and the nymphs. She had seen them guide Tedros away from the shade, but she had also seen a lone figure on the hill above them all, watching.  _ Tedros must have been held captive by someone in that valley. _

Tedros let out a sad little smile. “It’s okay. You can ask. It’s not like I’m going back there anyway.”

“Free of  _ who _ ?”

“My mother and her stupid rules. I couldn’t even step in the shade for the past seven months.” 

Agatha glanced uneasily at the god, her worried eyes meeting his happy ones. “And who,” she paused hesitantly, “is your mother?”

“You haven’t met her?” Tedros asked in complete naive innocence. It was clear he didn’t understand the gravity of the moment. “My mother is Guinevere. We both have plant-related magic after all.” Tedros returned to his meal.

On the other hand, Agatha grew deathly still in her seat.  _ The god sitting before me is Guinevere’s? I’m dead. I’m so so so dead. She’d be the only immortal who would willingly seek me out. She would throw me in Tartarus herself if she found out I took her son from her not once, but twice. _ Agatha’s mind raced a million miles an hour.

“Are you okay?” Tedros reached his hand out to put over Agatha’s, but she withdrew abruptly from the table, standing up and towering over Tedros.

“Your mother is Guinevere? You have to go back. I have to send you back right now. I can’t let her know that you ever stepped foot here. Did you tell her about your first time here?” Agatha willed herself to not begin pacing around the dining room floor. She hadn’t spoken to the above ground immortals for so long that she had honestly forgotten that Guinevere had borne a child all those decades ago. She had probably received a scroll about it from Hort, the messenger god. 

Tedros furrowed his brow. “So what if she’s Guinevere? She can be a bit overprotective at times, sure, but she’s just my mother.”

“Just your mother?” Agatha laughed through gritted teeth. “She’s the most terrifying goddess of them all. I’ve heard about what she did to Anadil and then Nicola and —”

“Please don’t worry about my mother. If it helps, you’re far more terrifying.” 

Agatha huffed out a breath.  _ He finds me terrifying? Typical.  _

Tedros continued. “She’s away on harvesting business and won’t be back for a month. I’m sure you two can work something out when she returns. Tell her I wanted to see the Underworld sediment or whatever,” Tedros grinned cheekily, as though he was trying to sweeten the situation and convince her to let him stay. (He was, of course, but Agatha was much too focused on the new issue to notice.)

Agatha contemplated this information — she supposed that the god was right in the end. What Guinevere didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and Agatha would absolutely adore frustrating one of the immortals Above.  _ What could she even do to me?  _ Agatha thought.  _ Send me to the Underworld? I’m already here. Been here since forever. There’s nothing Guinevere could do that would make me upset. The difference between me and those other immortals is that they have something to lose, and I don’t.  _

Agatha sighed. “Alright. You can stay.” What she didn’t say was:  _ and I’ll be sending you right back up on the thirtieth day of your stay here. I’ll have learned enough from you by then.  _

Tedros pushed his chair back and embraced her in his excitement. It felt like a warm blanket after walking through many years of snow. 

Agatha stood stiffly, her arms pinned down underneath his. “Why are you hugging me?”

Tedros pulled back sheepishly. “It’s what I did with the nymphs all the time. I wasn’t thinking.”

She hesitated. “Thanks, I suppose. You can find your way back to your room alone?” Tedros nodded. “Great. It’s getting late, and I have work to attend to. I shall see you tomorrow.”

And with that, Agatha and Tedros parted ways. Agatha went down the left corridor, and Tedros down the right.


	8. water from the styx

\-------------------------------------

Nymphs will always assume the best of people, and the ones Tedros calls family were no different. They took his note to heart, set it aside inside the knot of an apple tree, and went off to play. Merlin knows he could use a break from his mother and a spell of meditation, they all thought collectively. And so goes those living Above, much more trusting than those who dwell in the darkness.

\-------------------------------------

Agatha awoke to a rapping at her bedroom door. She tensed and automatically reached for her trident..

"Wake up," Tedros called to her, his voice muffled through the heavy wood. "I want to show you something."

Tedros. Not an attacker, Agatha realized, I have to stop doing that. Agatha groggily rose from her bed. She grabbed her sketchbook and drawing charcoal, opening the door to be faced with a grinning Tedros.

Hyacinths of all colors encircled his head. "Come outside! I want to show you something!" He dragged Agatha out of the castle.

"Are those flowers? " Agatha pointed to the newly grown flower bed to the right of the castle entrance. "Tedros, how long did this take you?" The Queen of the Underworld closed in on the plant life, immediately bringing forth her sketchbook to capture the plants' likenesses. She quickly sketched one of them with harsh charcoal lines.

"You're left handed?" Tedros asked.

"Yes," Agatha absentmindedly replied while frantically sketching. "What of it?"

Tedros was learning more and more about the elusive goddess with each passing minute, but he had no response to give her.

"All the ground needed was a bit of love," Tedros told Agatha simply after the pair spent a couple minutes of silence together. "I woke up abruptly at 3AM, and thought, Why don't I use some of the water from the Styx? So I rushed down there, said hello to Callis — who looked rather surprised at my return — collected the water in an empty firefly jar, and nurtured the soil until it could support plant life." Tedros was beaming, unknowingly using more words in that moment than Agatha usually used in an entire week. His hyacinth crown looked absolutely vibrant.

Agatha's hand stilled. "You used water from the Styx?"

"Yes," Tedros replied unsurely, his voice wavering.

Agatha let out a gravelly laugh. "That's genius! I can't believe I didn't think of that."

Tedros lapsed into an information session of why he chose flowers of the anemone and carnation variety, how to dig soil with your own hands, and the importance of speaking encouraging words to flowers. He was in his element. Agatha listened raptly, hanging onto his every word.

The flower god sat beside Agatha, describing the anatomy of a flower. Agatha finally put down her sketchbook and just listened— no notetaking or sketching or anything. It was riveting. She watched his mouth move rapidly as he explained the intricacies of fertilizer and how the correct combination of minerals could help fix the Underworld soil and perhaps he could find some of the more elusive ones down here anyway because it was a cave, after all. He spoke about how the ground down here obviously wasn't cursed: it wasn't any different than the sun-dried soil Above. It had been neglected since its creation, nothing more.

"Love," he repeated over and over, "all it needs is love."

Agatha soon found that she really hadn't been doing much valid research of plant life above ground — as her sketchbooks piled up in the castle — all she learned was the shape of a flower, not how it grew or what it needed to thrive. I've been going about this all wrong, Agatha thought. I should have spoken to this god way sooner. Hours passed by, and Tedros kept talking. Agatha didn't mind, though she found herself focusing more on the kind glint emanating from his eyes. The deep blues of his irises matched the blue hyacinths around his face. She was surprised that none of the petals ever fell on the floor. Maybe they magically disappear.

"Agatha?" Tedros croaked. "Do you have any water?"

She snapped out of her thoughts, freezing up as she only now realized that Tedros' head had been gently resting against her shoulder for the last couple of minutes. Tedros noticed her discomfort as his closeness and jumped up, dusting himself off.

"Keep forgetting you're not one of the nymphs," he muttered.

Agatha glossed over his remark. "You could drink from the Styx? Merlin knows what would happen to a mortal if one did it, but you'd be fine."

"Walk me over?"

"Sure." Agatha floated off the ground.

Tedros' head sprouted more flowers. "Could you . . . take me with you?"

"I am coming walking with you?" Agatha questioned.

"No, like could you fly me over? My mother never let me fly in the valley. I don't know how," he said embarrassed.

The only person more embarrassed was Agatha, who felt that she couldn't deny such an innocent request from the spring god. His hand burned with warmth in hers as she flew him over to the Styx. It's outrageous that Guinevere never let him fly. It's so freeing. Agatha didn't want to think about how that probably was the reason he never could learn in the first place.

The pair touched down on the Styx's pebbly banks, where Tedros reluctantly let go of Agatha's hand. He looked towards the cavern's ceiling, already missing the wind whipping through his hair and flowers. His knees kissed hard river pebbles as he cupped the clear water in his palms, first washing the dirt from his face before taking a sip. It was as sweet as the sap from the valley's sweet grass, yet laced with the tang of overripe citrus. Tedros took a big gulp of it, then another, then another.

"Trying to empty the Styx?" Agatha grinned. "Some mortals were punished for doing so before, you know. If you walk further beside the river and look down, you can probably still see their souls wandering around at the bottom."

Tedros backed away hastily from the water. "I keep forgetting you torture people down here? Why even bother with flowers?"

"I don't torture anyone, that's all Sophie's job. I just make sure everything's running smoothly, and the ground here is refusing to cooperate with me at the moment," Agatha reminded him. She peered down into the depths of the Styx. "Those souls did deserve it though."

"What did they do?"

"Woke me up too early," Agatha laughed.

"I hate Underworld humor," Tedros said glumly.

"Oh, I was dead serious."

Tedros didn't laugh at her second joke either.


	9. flowers for agatha

\-------------------------------------

Anadil wasn’t too fond of flowers. Most of them closed their petals and curled up their fronds at the sight of the moon, which unnerved her. To comfort her, Hester decorated her part of the forest with fragrant jasmine plants, which only flowered at night. In return for such a sweet gesture, Anadil gifted Hester a sturdy bow with a string made from one of the chariot puller’s own hairs, deeming it to be the strongest bow in the known universe.

\-------------------------------------

Two weeks had passed since Tedros’ arrival to the Underworld, and he had not heard one peep from anyone Above.  _ Time flew by like a breeze _ , Tedros thought to himself as he nestled in his bed one night. It was always night down here, but Tedros found it comforting to still call out the words day and night in his head when he noticed the shift on his sundial tattoo. 

He had started up a garden of reeds by the River Styx since that first day. Callis absolutely loved it, complaining to Agatha that he should renovate the other areas of the Underworld too. He was beginning to become quite popular around these parts. Sophie always bustled in and out of the castle with new clothing for him — always black — and Callis routinely offered him a sandwich as her dinghy passed by his rapidly growing region of reeds. She appreciated having something new to look at. 

But what most affected Tedros was Agatha’s presence. She was always nearby: she dined with him at least once every day, and would stop by the Styx to see his progress. After Tedros noticed her frequent visits, he began to pluck a flower from his hair after every visit and give it to her. He didn’t have a specific reason for doing so, but he noted that Agatha seemed to visit more frequently after the first few flowers. His hair flowers were always in bloom now, which was rarely the case in the valley. Agatha would watch him work for a bit before hastily accepted a flower offering and flying off. Tedros always wished that she would stay longer.

He twisted in his sheets.  _ Agatha is icy at times, but she isn't so bad. I was right that night all those weeks ago _ . With each visit from Agatha, this fact was only cemented deeper into his being. They’d slowly grown closer together, creating a dynamic system. Agatha would haul over the minerals necessary to cultivate the land, and Tedros would give her a flower in return. He would give her a flower even if she didn’t bring him anything. Once, he swore he saw her blush at his gift of a red lotus one time. That visit was her shortest one yet.

Sophie never said anything when she saw Agatha off on another journey to gather the sulfur or calcium that Tedros required, only raising her eyebrows. 

“Pretty little flower’s got you wrapped around his finger like a creeping vine,” Tedros had heard Sophie say, the conversation echoing down the castle hallway to Tedros’ room.

“He does NOT!” Agatha had replied adamantly. “He’s a colleague.” Tedros had stayed a bit longer in his room for that day.  _ Colleague is a bit cold _ , Tedros thought. He didn’t like reminiscing on that particular memory, but his conscious had a mind of its own. Although her visits during the day were short, she still made sure to dine with him often. He enjoyed the meals. Agatha could talk about anything — the number of scrolls she checked, what outrageous project Sophie decided to take on, Callis’ demand for a new stick to propel her dinghy faster — and Tedros would listen without interruption. The two took turns relaying stories, both from Above and Below, during these meals. There was silence between stories, different from what Tedros had lived through in the valley, and he soon grew to love taking a pause to collect his thoughts, thinking about what he had to say, and finally saying it. Agatha taught him how to do that. 

“Everything moves slower in the Underworld,” she told him at one such meal. “Nobody has anywhere to go. So why speak faster than the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings?”

_ Agatha is fascinating _ . Tedros smiled a little, face mashed into his pillow.  _ She acts cold, but nothing she does is cold at all.  _ Tedros flipped himself over so that he was lying on his back. Though he used to see Reena and her chariot, now he saw a ceiling full of dulled fireflies.  _ Beautiful _ , he had thought the first night. 

He flipped onto his stomach, his thought of Reena leading his thoughts to the other gods and goddesses — and what their deal with Agatha was. .

_ Why do the other immortals hate Agatha so much? Because of where she works?  _ Agatha’s tone about the immortals above her domain made it sound as though they had never given her a real chance to become even remotely close. Tedros felt his heart race: it pressed into the mattress with each thump.  _ We’re the same. By Merlin, we’re the same. We’re both trapped in stupid domains without any say from our part _ . Tedros’ mind churned as he corrected his thoughts.  _ I was trapped. Not anymore. And I owe it all to her _ . A wreath of red carnations burst from his head.  _ And she thinks I’m just a colleague! _ Tedros found himself unable to sleep. While he did enjoy his own bed, he always awoke cold. It wasn’t just the Underworld’s atmosphere, it was the loss of his nymphs. His family.

Tedros padded out of his room, closing the door quietly behind him. Each footstep sent cold shocks up his body, and eventually, he was standing in front of Agatha’s room. He started to lose his nerve.  _ I should go back to my room _ , he began pacing,  _ this was such a mistake I shouldn’t  _ —”

“Tedros?” The voice murmured from the other side.

“How did you know it was me?” Tedros asked meekly.

The voice was a bit louder now. “There’s no one else living here but the two of us. Now come on in.”

Tedros opened the door, stepping inside as it slowly closed behind him.

Agatha, cocooned in a black blanket, lay on the left side of her bed.

Tedros stopped right inside the room, hesitant to walk any further. “I can’t sleep.”

Agatha yawned. “Missing Reena’s chariot?”

“No. Missing sleeping next to my family.”

Agatha sat up and patted the bed next to her, sighing. “Well, come on then.”

Tedros stared at her hand.

“Do I need to say it again? Get in the bed.” Agatha flipped open the covers, allowing Tedros to crawl under them. Agatha on the left of the bed, Tedros on the right. As the firefly lights dimmed to complete darkness, Agatha whispered into Tedros’ ear. “I’ll tell you a secret. I can never sleep either.”

But with Agatha next to him, Tedros fell asleep with ease.


	10. crystal cavern

\-------------------------------------

"Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises." – Demosthenes, recognized as one of the greatest orators in all of ancient Greece. 384 BCE to 322 BCE.

\-------------------------------------

Agatha awoke with a flower in her face. In fact, a lot of flowers. Tedros' head rested on her stomach, with the rest of him still sleeping peacefully. Agatha watched the gentle rise and fall of the spring god's chest. _How am I supposed to move_? Agatha bit her lip. She settled with gently shaking his arm, and soon after, his eyes slowly opened like a flower meeting the early morning sun's first rays.

"I actually came in here, didn't I?" Tedros said sleepily. "Almost felt like a dream."

"Well, good morning, sunshine." Tedros didn't pick up on her sarcastic tone, beaming as if he pulled the sun chariot himself. "I want to show you something." Agatha brought the sleep-ridden Tedros to a large crevice in one of the walls far away from the castle. She didn't even ask this time before taking his hand to shorten their journey.

"Cool hole?" Tedros questioned.

"Go inside," Agatha shooed him in. The flower god complied.

Ducking under the rocky outcropping, Tedros shuffled through the narrow tunnel. It must have gone on for five minutes, and each passing step would have caused him to panic were it not for the evenly paced breathing of Agatha beside him. He could hear the slow drip of water pinging against the floor, which slowly filled little rivers running somewhere. Probably to the Styx.

 _Where is she taking me?_ The tunnel ended in a large room.

"Oh," Tedros couldn't force any more words out. Huge crystals of all hues jutted out from rock shelves. They stood like spires, reflecting light off from the few firefly souls that wandered around. Tedros could hear water drops plinking off parts of the room, hitting the floor somewhere that he could not see. It was bright enough for Tedros, yet not too bright as to blind Agatha. He arched his back, taking in the view. His eyes couldn't get enough of it. "It's beautiful."

To Tedros' surprise, Agatha blushed. "This is where I come to think. Thought you would like it."

"Like it? It's magnificent."

"... No one's ever thought the Underworld to be beautiful before," Agatha wrung her hands together, "but you're the first to explore it besides me."

Tedros looked at her in disbelief. "It's not _just_ this place," he began to tick locations off his fingers. "The Styx, the ballroom, my room, the pools of lava, the reeds by the waters, it's _all_ _beautiful_. Surely you don't think you've been living somewhere ugly your whole life?"

"It's somewhere perfect for a monster," Agatha said, resigned.

He studied her closed-off expression. _She can't be serious_.

"While we didn't get off on the best of terms," Tedros began, noting how Agatha began to shift uncomfortably, "I've grown to love this place. It's truly lovely. The mushrooms grow much stronger down here. But you're not a monster."

"I am."

"Why? Because the gods and goddesses who are too afraid to come down here told you so?"

"Because nobody ever wants to be around me, yes."

"Well, what have I been doing here for the past weeks then?"

"What do you mean?"

Tedros' body slackened. _Agatha didn't realize?_

"You've been hanging out with _me_ ," he emphasized. "I want to be around you."

"But I'm a monster. I look like one, too. You should have gotten away when you had the chance." Agatha indicated to her abnormally sharp teeth and tall figure, as if they were undesirable traits.

"I love your grin, Agatha. Please don't put yourself down — it's not right. You have absolutely no reason to do this to yourself."

Agatha shrugged. "The above grounders ridiculed me for my sharp teeth, and have you seen the way the mortals paint me on their pottery?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Love them both. Love your teeth. Your smile is like no other I've ever seen." Tedros hesitated, but blurted out, "That's why I like it."

"You . . . like it?"

Tedros led Agatha to the base of a crystal, its surface so smooth that their reflections could be seen with ease. "Smile?" he asked her gently.

She did, showing her sharpened teeth. She noted how the light glinted on them, like they were any other crystal in this cavern. "They're pointy."

Tedros' eyes were steady on her. "So what? The crystals are pointy, yet you would be foolish to call them anything but beautiful."

Agatha's eyebrows shot up. "You really take me to be beautiful?"

"Yes."

"I would be a fool to disagree with someone as kind as yourself." Agatha admitted, her eyes meeting Tedros' within the crystalline reflection.

Tedros' heart beat like the fluttering of a butterfly's papery wings. He clutched his sweaty hands together, eager. _I'm going to do this. I may never get this opportunity again_.

Flowers sprouted up from his head with great ferocity. "Can I kiss you?"

"But my teeth," was all Agatha could say in response, stunned.

Tedros shook his head. "I already told you, they're perfect."

Agatha flushed, shifting her feet. "Yes," she said, grinning after a few painfully silent moments, her sharp teeth out for all the world to see.

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, leaned in, and kissed the Queen of the Underworld. Their foreheads bumped together painfully.

"This is my first kiss," Tedros said embarrassed.

"It's mine too." Agatha pulled him in for another, careful to not bump foreheads this time.

 _Definitely a Queen,_ Tedros thought.


	11. where is he?

\-------------------------------------

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” 

— William Congreve, English playwright and poet. 1670 CE to 1729 CE.

\-------------------------------------

“Yara, where is Tedros?” Guinevere asked the nymph. She had returned a week early from her business trip, finding that Hort egregiously over-reported the number of wheat fields infested by termites. 

“Oh! He went on a meditation trip! So nice of him to take some time away for himself.”

“He. What. Now?” Guinevere clenched her fists. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Where is he?”

Chaddick cleared his throat. “He really is meditating in the valley,” he said, handing the birch bark note over to the goddess. She gave it a once over. 

“Well, if he’s in the valley,” she said through gritted teeth, “bring him to me. Now.” 

The nymphs fled off in search of him. They scoured the valley as fast as they could, upturning every stone and branch. They returned to the goddess, dejected and empty handed.

The goddess’ wrath grew, the grass under her feet dying. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Kiko meekly said.

“I should have expected you lot to be useless. I’m taking this to a higher power.” And with that, Guinevere set off for Mount Olympus, leaving giant swaths of decaying plants in her wake. For the first time, winter was arriving in the valley.

Merlin lounged on his alabaster throne, his hat hanging off one of its arms. “Of course I know where Tedros is,” he said to the irate goddess in front of him. 

“Well?” Guinevere tapped her foot on the ground. “Where is my baby boy?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Tell. Me,” she emphasized.

“You’ll spoil his fun.”

“I could care less about his  _ fun _ . I care about his  _ safety _ .”

Merlin leaned back and ran his hands through his beard. “He’s in the Underworld.”

Green tendrils began wrapping themselves around Merlin’s throne, as if they could strangle the rock itself. “So what you’re telling me,” she croaked out, “is that my baby has been kidnapped.”

“Ma’am, he has not been kidnapped. He looks pretty happy down there actually.”

Guinevere began to cry. “My poor baby! All alone there in the dark!” She used a rose petal to dab at the corners of her eyes. The vines began to creep around Merlin’s arms.

The god sighed. “He’s not alone. Even if he was, he’d be perfectly capable of handling himself. He’s more than a few decades past being a child.”

“Who is he with then?” Guinevere’s eyes narrowed, enhancing their redness.

“He’s with Agatha.”

Guinevere scrunched up her nose in disgust. “ _ That _ monster? You must get him out of her grimy claws for me this instant!” Vines tightened around Merlin, tying him down to the chair.

“I will send for her and Tedros. Hort!” Merlin bellowed. 

He appeared, clothed in a chiton with golden lace trimmings and winged sandals. “Yes, your honor?”

“Bring me Agatha and Tedros.”

“I have to go  _ down there? _ ” Hort asked, pointing down.

Guinevere huffed. “Yes, you absolutely must.” Her tears had dried, leaving only anger in its place. The vines wrapped around Merlin slowly disintegrated. The god let out the subtlest sighs of relief.

Hort looked at the goddess. “When did you get here?”

She gave Hort such a dirty look that he felt like he had already journeyed down under. “I’m going, I’m going,” he said, hands held in the air in defeat.

“See!” Merlin said jovially, already recovered from the vine incident. “Everything will work out fine.”

Guinevere began pacing around Merlin’s comically large throne room as if she wanted to wear down the floor and tumble from the peak of Mount Olympus to its base.


	12. to accept change

\-------------------------------------

Hort was a busy messenger. He loved working for Merlin, sure, but also enjoyed the other  _ finer _ parts of life. This usually turned into Hort asking various goddesses out. He even tried to ask Anadil out, only to be shot at with an arrow from Hester, who was yelling obscenities from down below. Hort learned to be more careful after that.

\-------------------------------------

Agatha and Tedros relaxed by the bank of the Styx. They both kept glancing shyly at each other, eyes darting back furiously when they met each other’s gaze. It had been a week since their escapade in the crystal caverns, yet to them, only moments had passed. But like the spring, nothing lasts forever.

Smoke, with a somehow greasy feel to it, suddenly appeared, shattering the silence. “Hello, Queen,” Hort bowed. “Tedros.”

Tedros jumped at the god’s sudden appearance.He fell into the Styx.

“What do you need?” Agatha asked, bored.

“You?” 

“Oh bother. You aren’t trying to ask me out as a joke again, are you? It wasn’t amusing the first time. You know, I’m sure Reaper would enjoy batting you around again for a bit. Three headed cats are known for being quite playful.” Agatha flicked some of the Styx water in his face.

Hort flinched. “No. I need you. More specifically, both of you,” he said, indicating at Tedros as well.” 

“And by whose command?”

“Merlin’s.”

“Oh bother.” Agatha pulled Tedros out of the Styx since he somehow hadn’t gotten out himself. She squeezed his hand for a brief moment before letting it go.

“Ready to go?” Hort asked.

“I need to get my trident from my castle first. One moment.” Agatha held out her hand to Tedros, who accepted it. The two flew off to the castle, leaving Hort by the river bank. 

_ I’ll just wait for them to return then _ , Hort thought, kicking at the stones on the beach.

“Agatha,” Tedros said as they reached her bedroom, “I know you don’t keep your trident in your room. What’s going on?”

Agatha pulled open the drawer of her bedside table, scrounging around in it. “Here it is.” Agatha brought out a glistening pomegranate, more luscious than any fruit Tedros had seen on the surface.

“That’s not your trident,” Tedros obliviously pointed out.

Agatha shot him a look, but held it out. “I don’t know what Merlin wants from us, but I know it's nothing good. He hasn't spoken with me since that river incident a millenia ago.”

Tedros grasped the pomegranate with outstretched hands. “Is this a gift for him?”

“It’s for you,” Agatha said urgently. There wasn’t much time to explain. “This pomegranate was grown in the Underworld.” 

Tedros stared at her. 

“Shocking, I know. All the other food you’ve eaten during our meals together was brought down from the Above. This pomegranate comes from the tree at the center of the Underworld, a place no mortal soul dares enter. If you eat its fruits, you are bound to the Underworld forever.”

Tedros’ eyes shined. “You want me to stay with you forever?”

“If that’s what you want. If not, I can return this fruit to my drawer, and we shall never have to speak of this again.”

“Are you  _ proposing to me _ ?” Tedros tried to blink away his tears. He was failing.

Agatha’s cheeks reddened. “I,” she paused, considering what to say. “Yes.”

Tedros’ tears dribbled down his chin. “I accept,” he said with a smile. He turned his gaze down towards the pomegranate resting in the palm of his hand and took a bite of the succulent fruit, swallowing exactly six seeds. He went to take a second, but just as he did, Hort appeared in the room. Tedros dropped the pomegranate, jumpy as ever, and Agatha swiftly kicked it underneath the bed.

“I got super bored at the beach. Callis absolutely  _ hates _ me for no reason now. Don’t ask her why, though. Let’s get you both up to Merlin.”

“Let’s go then,” Agatha said nonchalantly, placing her hand on Hort’s staff, and indicating for Tedros to do the same. 

He began to follow suit, but not before asking: “Why?” 

“There’s more than one way to travel,” replied Hort, watching carefully as Tedros put his hand over Agatha’s. “Going up!”

The journey up was much gentler with Hort’s method. Tedros didn’t even pass out on the journey. He found himself gliding to a halt on the floor of Merlin’s throne room, still wet as a river koi. Motherly hands wrapped around him, dragging him up from the ground and as far away from Agatha as possible. Hort crept out of the room while he still had the chance. 

“You — you  _ monster _ !” Guinevere seethed, pointing at Agatha. “How  _ dare  _ you steal my child away?”

Tedros pushed himself away from the harvest goddess. “Mother! It’s okay,” he was still a bit teary-eyed. “I wanted to go.” He tried to appease her. “The Underworld is so beautiful, I have to show it to you sometimes.” 

Merlin watched on silently, deliberating. Agatha was frozen in place.

Guinevere turned to her baby boy. “Beautiful? BEAUTIFUL? That place is the exact opposite of where I want you to grow up. I’ll be sending you right back to the nymphs. They’ve been ever so lonely without you.”

“Mother, please let me stay,” Tedros begged.

Merlin reached a verdict in his head. “Actually,” he told Tedros, “you don’t have a choice about that.”

“He doesn’t?” Agatha asked, but she already knew what was coming.

“No.” Merlin stood up from his throne, descending to the group of irate and sad god and goddesses. “I can see it within him. Tedros has consumed from the tree of the Underworld.”

Wicked sharp branches began slithering around the throne room, closing off the entrances and exits. “Tedros, my baby, please tell me it’s not true.” She gripped the sides of Tedros’ face tightly, and he put his own on top of hers, prying the fingers off himself slowly. They left pink marks on the side of his face. 

“I did,” he said slowly. “You could even say that we’re married now.” Tedros walked over to Agatha and grasped her hand. “Mother. I refuse to go with you.” He turned his face upwards to meet Agatha’s gaze. “Agatha,” he whispered, “can we go home now?”

“Not exactly,” Merlin stated. He could see the destruction that Guinevere had already inflicted upon the land and knew that it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Crops were decaying and dying as they spoke, and the world was turning cold — all because of Guinevere's rage and sadness. “I’m sure there’s an easy way to work this out,” the old god looked at the Mother, the Queen of The Underworld, and the God of Spring Growth, “here’s my verdict.” 

Guinevere opened her mouth to immediately object, but was silenced by Merlin. “You will all obey my verdict,” he decreed, “which is this: Tedros consumed six pomegranate seeds, so he shall remain in the Underworld for six months of the year. He shall spend the other six months Above.” Then Merlin grinned. “I’m getting quite cunning in my old age,” he praised himself. 

Nobody knew quite what to say at his decree, until Agatha opened her mouth. “I accept.”

Tedros, tears welling up in his eyes, grasped her hand tighter. “Why? Why send me away for half of the year? I’ll be miserable.”

“As will I,” she replied, “but it’s a better verdict than I ever expected.”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Guinevere screeched. “Merlin, send my baby home with me. I’m the only one who can care for him.”

Merlin stroked his beard. “Well, I could always reissue my verdict so that Tedros may remain in the Underworld for all of the year.”

Guinevere sobered up at the thought of no Tedros ever again. “Thank you for your gracious ruling, Merlin,” she said. The thorny vines dissipated from the throne room, marking the first time any immortal had calmed the raging wrath of the harvest goddess. 

Merlin returned to his throne. “Tedros,” he said kindly. “You have five months remaining before you must return Above, so I would use your time wisely. I leave you with this: you are under no obligation to live in the valley anymore. Your time is yours, and yours alone. Do with it as you see fit.” 

He turned to Agatha. “Queen of the Underworld, I leave you with this: you are a wonderful ruler of the Underground, and I see day after day that I made the right choice with you. You make me proud.”

Finally, Merlin turned to Guinevere. “Guinevere, I leave you with this: the only life you have control over is your own.” 

He waved his hands. “Now leave me alone! I need to get some rest. You three have given me a pounding headache that reminds me all too much of the time Nicola burst out of there.” 

\-------------------------------------

Even Hester cannot see Anadil every night. Clouds covered her chariot as she rode through the sky more often than she would like to admit. But that does not mean Hester ever forgot that Anadil is there, carrying out one of the most important jobs in the world. In fact, this only strengthened their love for each other.

\-------------------------------------

With Merlin’s decree, the world was plunged into winter for six months out of the year and summer for the remaining ones. 

Although Merlin had said that Tedros need not return to the valley, the King of the Underworld found himself visiting his family there more summers than not. The nymphs understood his need to live his own life, barely batting an eye when he told him about his marriage to Agatha.

“Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” Dot cried, blowing her nose on a rose petal. That was before Tedros explained all that had happened. Dot understood her lack of an invitation after that, as well as the other nymphs. 

Although Tedros enjoyed his times with the nymphs in the summer months, he never truly took Agatha off his mind. Agatha didn’t come to visit during his months Above, stating that it was too painful to see him and not invite him back down, but Tedros still saw her shadow occasionally within the forest. He was still sad, too. Sad enough to grow black lilies in her honor. His summer home, the valley, came to be known by the mortals as the valley of the black lily. 

Tedros liked the new name.

When it came time for winter, Tedros joyously ran into the deepest part of the forest. Agatha was always waiting for him. He climbed up onto her midnight mare, kissed her in greeting, and began the journey down. 

One time Agatha had let Tedros hold the mare’s reigns after she had spent a busy day searching for a lost mortal scroll. She fell asleep on the mare, Tedros’ arms wrapped around her torso in an embrace. Tedros stopped the mare, unable to take his eyes off her. The Queen of the Underworld was his  _ wife _ . He almost couldn’t believe that a Queen married someone who grew up in a field of sweet grass, but it had happened, and everytime he saw her at the end of the summer months was proof. 

After a few hours spent in the forest in complete silence other than Agatha’s soft breathing, she awoke. Agatha gently took the reins from him, but before she could pull them away, he grasped her hands in his and bowed his head to kiss them. 

Agatha’s neck flushed pink. “Let’s go home, so much has grown since you’ve left.”

They left the Above, soon glimpsing the first black lilies of the Underworld to welcome their Queen and King back home.

\-------------------------------------

Black tends to have ominous connotations, but it is also the symbol of rebirth and rejuvenation. 

Lilies are often associated with rebirth due to a myth about Zeus and Hera, and in Greek marriage ceremonies, the priest often places a crown of lilies and wheat on the bride’s head.

  
  



	13. author's note

Thank you so much to everyone who has sent kind messages and comments about Black Lily. This is currently the longest piece I've ever written, and I'm proud of the way it came out.

If you check out my Wattpad account (snailjamsge), you will be able to find 2+ extra Wattpad exclusive chapters filled with art made for Black Lily. I hope you enjoy the art as much as I do!

Thank you again. -Jamie :)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m almost entirely ignoring greek mythology canon here, so Agatha and Tedros are not related whatsoever. Nobody is related except for Tedros and his Mother. All of the immortals are 1,000+ years old, but look as though they’re in their twenties. Enjoy!


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